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UFSW Hunger Games/Issue 5
This is Issue 5 of the UFSW Hunger Games. This issue is written by Walkerbait22. Issue 5 Ash Bolio rummages through crates upon crates in the back of some decrepit store, finding nothing of use. In the next room over, PJ Shamp does the same. Ash sighs and kicks one of the crates in frustration. "PJ!" he calls. "Whatcha find?" "Uh..." PJ starts, "Got a coloring book. Maybe Darla will want it, if we ever get back. And...a CD. An instruction booklet on how to play the flute. An old magaz--" "Anything we can use?" "Nope." "Fuckin' great," Ash says, leaving the back supply closet and meeting PJ near the front of the store. Ash eyes the bat PJ holds, the only viable weapon they've come across. It has a few fresh blood stains on the tip, a consequence of the biters that were unfortunate enough to get in their way. Ash holds his hand out, and PJ raises his eyesbrows. "What?" PJ asks. "Bat," Ash says simply. "That's not how you ask." Ash smirks and snatches it from him before he can react. "I'm in charge, I kill the biters, you stay behind me. Yeah?" "Where are we going?" "Not sure exactly. Best to stay outta sight, as long as all we've got is this bat. We'll check a few more shops, but after that we should probably check out for the day. Board up a store or somethin'." "Planning on eating?" "If you can find some food. But we can survive a day without--" He's had his senses on high alert all day, and at the sound of voices his mouth snaps shut. They're a man and a woman, and from what he can tell, they're approaching from the left side of the street. Ash puts a finger to his lips to shush PJ, then points with his thumb to the counter directly behind them. PJ jumps over first, then him, and they crouch to keep themselves out of view. They listen intently to the conversation between the strangers. It's heated, something about a kid. "Conner, I know you want to...avenge Ash. But that guy is one out of 45 others that we have to worry about. 45 others that might not hesitate to shoot us in the head," Kim says, walking briskly to his right. He lets her words go through one ear and out the other. "I am not letting that tattooed fuck get away with throwing a ten year old to the damn infected!" Conner says a little louder than he intended. Realizing he can attract attention, he lowers his voice. "If I kill only one person, I want it to be him." Kim stops him in front of the store, glaring at Conner. Thinking of a way to make him see reason. "So you want to risk your life for one person? He could be dead already, Conner." "What I want is to make sure that fucker doesn't get away with what he did. And I won't let him." Conner nods, making sure she understands, but she just rolls her eyes. "Why do I even try?" she says, walking past him and to the front doors of the store. Ash curses to himself when he hears the door open. But Kim doesn't step in completely, but turns to look at Conner. "Aren't you hungry? Or, in your rage-filled quest for revenge, did you forget we have to eat?" she says, but decides it may have been a little too harsh. He doesn't admit it, but she knows Ash meant a lot to him. More than she could probably ever imagine. Conner reluctantly follows her inside, and behind the counter, Ash and PJ share a nervous glance. "Should we--" PJ whispers, but Ash shushes him again. He tightens his grip on the bat, and takes a quick peek above the counter. The man--an older guy with an unkempt beard--and the woman--she's younger, with dark skin--search through shelves in silence. He can't see any guns on them, which he takes as a good sign and bad. If they have no firearms, it'll be harder for them to hurt him or PJ; but, if he's planning on being friendly and going at this fight to the death with two others, they may not be much help. He ducks down quickly and gives PJ a curt nod. Then he jumps up from behind the counter, bat raised in defense. "Hey," Ash says. Conner and Kim jump back in surprise, his simple greeting such a contrast from his tense and hostile demeanor. "H-hey," Kim says. She notices the kid can't be more than 18, but by the look of that bat he isn't afraid to smash in a few heads or two. And the surprises keep coming, as from right next to him, an even younger boy appears from his hiding spot behind the counter, unarmed. "Not looking to hurt you," Ash says. "Armed?" "No," Conner says. "See you are." "We really don't want any trouble," PJ says. "If--if there's forty other people out there, maybe we have a better chance doing this weird deathmatch thing together." "We're gonna have to kill each other anyway, you know that, kid?" Conner comments. "We know," Ash says. "But the longer we live, the better. And I'm the one with the bat." Kim actually cracks a smile, and Ash can instantly tell he’s succeeded. Conner, though, finds himself torn between his two options. He knows better than most the threat of strangers. But these are two kids. Two kids with a bloody bat, and he’s not sure if that blood’s from the walkers...or something else. But then he remembers his kid, his son Joey, and the mistakes he made, the shitty values he instilled in his own child. Then, he disregards all of that, as he’s on a goal to be the last one standing in a fight to the death. All morals are thrown out the window at this point, and two more able bodies increase his chances of survival. And survival is what matters. “Alright, smart ass,” Conner says. “You want to...team up? I’ll team up. What’re your names?” “PJ,” PJ says first. Slowly lowering his bat, Ash introduces himself. “Ash.” Ash furrows his eyebrows together, confused by the sudden change in Conner’s expression. “Wow,” Conner mutters. “The fucking irony...” ____________________________________________________________________________________ John Clain and Ken Meyers walk down a deserted city street, side by side. In the distance, they can see the remnants of the White House and other landmarks that are only slightly familiar. In his hands, Ken holds a small pistol, a weapon he found about an hour ago lying next to a dumpster. He observes it over and over, recounting the bullets inside. John, a sniper rifle strapped over his shoulder, glances at him, then nudges him with his elbow. “Gun’s not going anywhere,” John says. “Yeah, I know. Just trying to keep my mind on something,” Ken replies, finally deciding to quit fidgeting with the gun, but he still keeps it grasped in his right hand. He looks to John and nudges him back. “So...you’ve killed anyone yet?” “Yeah. Found this sweet spot up in this building, and this sniper, too. These six people were out in the open--four guys and two women. Took out the two girls, a younger one and an older one. Guys got away though.” “Leveling the playing field a little more, yeah?” “As much as I can,” John says, and he puts an arm around Ken’s shoulder. “But we’re in this together. I’ve got your back.” “Thanks,” Ken mutters, admittedly a little nervous about this entire ordeal. He knows at least two people are done for, but that leaves as many as forty others out to get him, fighting for their lives. But he knows he’s ready to kill if he has to, and now it seems like his chance as he sees a group of three exiting a small shop a ways down the road. Ken pats John frantically on the shoulder and points to the figures. John squints his eyes, making out two males and one female. The female is young, but older than the two guys, who can’t be more than teenagers. He puts his rifle in his hands and leads Ken to the nearest alleyway. “Are we gonna ask them to join us?” Ken asks, peeking his head out behind a building to get a better look at the strangers. “Hell no. Can’t trust anybody. Just me and you, got it?” John says, and Ken gives a reluctant nod. John gets into a crouching position and inches forward, his eyes down the rifle’s sights, deciding which of the three to take out. “Where to next?” Connor asks, Akira and Leroy walking on either side of him. “The bell stopped...” Leroy observes. “Camp out somewhere for the day?” “If we can find some food first. Everywhere is fucking ransacked,” Akira says with a sigh. “Least we found this,” Leroy adds, holding up a small pocket knife. “Yeah, right. Someone else probably has a shotgun or a grenade launcher or some shit,” Connor says. “That little knife’s not gonna do us any good.” “Especially not in your hands, Leroy,” Akira says, and she takes the knife from him without protest. “I’ll be in charge of the weapons here.” “Damn, alright,” Leroy mutters. They walk in silence for a few seconds as Akira fidgets with the pocket knife, releasing the blade and testing her grip on the handle. But that silence is soon broken by the near simultaneous sounds of a gunshot and a scream from Akira, then Connor’s body hitting the asphalt, a bullet in the center of his forehead. A shot that had no chance of missing. Akira ducks down behind a car, but Leroy still stands in the open, staring down at Connor’s body. Another gunshot rings out, but Akira pulls him down to the ground just as a bullet speeds over his head. He finally comes to his senses, looking back and forth between Akira and Connor’s body. “D-did you see where it came from?” Leroy asks. “I think...they might be hiding in that alley, behind one of the buildings. I thought I saw someone but I--I don’t know,” Akira says. “Should we run?” “I think they saw us, they’ll know we’re here. They might wait for us...” Her minds draws a blank, but then her eyes shift to the pocket knife in her hands. “This is gonna sound crazy but...” “Look, any idea is better than no idea at this point,” Leroy says, urging her to spit it out. “Okay...you stay here. I’ll try to sneak up on them....somehow.” “That’s fucking suicide, you know that right?” “It’s not. I have enough cover from the cars that...maybe they won’t see me. And if I can reach that alley back there, I can go around and sneak up from behind.” She gives him a reassuring nod, but he still looks conflicted. But, as he doesn’t give her any words of discouragement, she takes it as an ‘okay.’ “Stay here,” she repeats. “I’ll be back.” She dares to take a quick peek from behind the cars, and sees a bald man with a sniper pointed directly at their location. A shot doesn’t fire, so she ducks down quickly, assuming he hasn’t spotted her. She quickly transfers from behind the cover of one car to the cover of the next, stopping to calm her nerves every few seconds. She nearly shrieks when she hears the bang of a bullet colliding with the car next to her, but she manages to stay silent. The alley is just to her right; she makes a dash for it, out in the open for a fraction of a second. A single infected sets its sights on her, but she quickly jumps to her feet and jams the blade of the pocket knife into its eye, twisting it once. Pulling it out results in the infected slumping to the ground, and she adjusts her focus once again on the mysterious gunman. She moves down the rest of the alley silently, then makes a right. She holds her breath as she proceeds through the stench of rot and trash and reaches a small, brick building. She pokes her head around, but instead of the one man she assumed was there, she sees two. The sight makes her curse under her breath, and she decides her plan needs a bit of reworking. Then she makes note of the dumpster on her left. She begins scouring through it and finds an old, empty beer bottle. She assumes her previous position, then launches the bottle way down the alley. At the sound of breaking glass, Ken and John freeze in their spots. "Hey, go check it out," John whispers, still looking through the scope. "Me? Why me?" Ken says. "Because I'm kind of busy here." "They probably got away, anyway, man. There's absolutely no movement down there." "Kid, go check it out." When Ken doesn't move, John sighs and shoves the sniper into his hands. He snatches the smaller pistol from him. "Keep watching that spot." As he inches down the alley to investigate the sound, he keeps a keen eye out. But no other sounds, no other movement. He begins to think it was maybe just their anxious imagination, or maybe just a biter, when a young, frantic woman rushes from his left, from behind the corner of a building. Before he can fire, Akira jams the pocket knife into his forehead; she pulls it out, his body going slack and hitting the floor. She scurries to reach his gun, but Ken has already heard the commotion. He sees the strange woman, John’s motionless body on the ground, and fires the sniper without hesitation. The bullet smashes into her chest, and she falls to the ground. Ken’s mind wanders away from keeping watch and making sure the last kid doesn’t get away, and his focus is turned onto John. He sprints to his body, collapsing onto his knees, taking in the knife wound on his head. His chest doesn’t move, and he doesn’t make a sound, confirming Ken’s fears. He takes the small pistol from John and stands, walking over to Akira. He hovers over her, her eyes still open, looking up at him. But he only scowls at her, and pulls the trigger. ____________________________________________________________________________________ Scott stumbles into an alleyway, running for his life, the thumping of footsteps behind him as loud as ever. He dashes around a corner, only to be met with two walkers; he gives a small, involuntary screech and pushes one away. For the other, he grabs it by the neck and smashes its head into the brick building to his left. The deviation from his escape proves to be a mistake, though. Behind him, three people turn that same corner, each with a gun drawn. Scott spins around and puts his hands up defensively. Sweat sheens along his forehead and he trembles only slightly. He exchanges glances between the three: a Caucasian man, a younger woman, and a tall African-American guy, around the same age as the other man. Scott braces himself for the shot, but nothing comes. “I’m s-sorry,” Scott says. “I’m not--I’m not a bad guy, I just ran because--there were these t-two other guys. They killed my friend and I just--I didn’t know if they came after me, too, or what. Please, I don’t want to hurt you.” One of the men, Adam Greene, steps forward. He holsters his gun, then observes the kid. Can’t be out of his teen years. Initially believing he could be a danger, Adam rethinks this. “Calm down,” Adam advises. “I can’t!” Scott shouts, then realizes the infected he shoved to the ground still stirs. He gives it a firm stomp to the head before turning back to the three. “Both of my friends--I found one dead, and the other, he got stabbed and, I just, I had to go. This is so fucking crazy, I can’t--” “Calm. Down. We’re not gonna hurt you.” “Then why the hell were you chasing me?” “We didn’t know you were just a kid.” “Oh,” Scott says. “Uh...thanks? Sorry if I made you think I was trouble or something. I’m just confused and...I wanna get out of here.” “So do we,” says the woman, Lilly, from behind him. “Yeah, and you really don’t look dangerous,” says the other man, Morgan. “Yeah, thanks,” Scott mutters. “It’s true.” Adam clears his throat, then holds his hand out to Scott. “Adam Greene,” he says. Scott looks at it for a few seconds, bewildered, but slowly shakes it. “That’s Lilly, and he’s Morgan.” “Scott.” “Scott...Nice to meet you. Now you said someone...killed your friend?” “Yeah. We--we found this lady looking over the body of one of our other friends, then Peter, he just went fucking crazy and shot the lady in cold blood. And then these--these guys, they just--it got wild, and Peter, he got stabbed. Right in the neck. I thought--I didn’t know if they’d come after me so I just...I ran.” “Did they come after you?” “No--I mean, I don’t think so,” Scott says. “Don’t wanna waste time finding out, do we?” Morgan adds. Scott swallows hard, his suspicions growing. Three people, well aware someone needs to be the last one standing, and they willingly offer him to tag along. But what are his other options at this point? If he says no, they could immediately brand him as an enemy and kill him right then and there. Or maybe they are friendly and they’ll...help him out. The second option sounds much more pleasant, so Scott looks to Morgan and gives him a small nod. ____________________________________________________________________________________ Inside a small gun shop, Amelia Wilson has her hands on her hips, looking absolutely defeated at the wall of guns across for her. However, it's trapped behind some kind of weird cage door with a metal lock tight on the handle. She grabs the lock, tugs on it a few times, but, like her last attempts, her efforts make no difference. She turns around, where Danny Douglas sits on a crate, yawning, and Sarah Daniels leans against the wall next to him. "No luck," Amelia says. "Apparently..." Danny mutters, and then he stands, clapping his hands together. "So, what do we do?" "Leave," Sarah says, and both Danny and Amelia look at her for an explanation. "This is a gun store. With...guns. This place might as well have a neon sign flashing on top of it." She then reaches into her waistband, retrieving the only weapon they've found thus far: a Desert Eagle pistol. "This should do us good enough for now. Better than nothing." "Alright," Amelia says, taking the weapon from her. "We'll just...go. Think of a plan on the way to wherever we end up." "Sounds good to me. But we need some freakin' food," Danny says. "I'll put that gourmet meal real high on our priority list," Amelia says, walking to the door. Danny opens it for her, allowing her to step onto the cracked and faded sidewalk outside. Sarah follows close behind, but she can't even leave the store as Amelia stops in her tracks. "Hey...uh," Danny begins, realizing the blonde woman's name has slipped from his mind. "Amelia," Sarah finishes for him, "what's wrong?" Then they all hear the frantic shouting coming from down the street. Amelia quickly rushes them inside and slams the door shut, pressing her back against it. "What?" Danny asks. "Two people, a guy and a girl. They were being chased by these two men," she explains hastily. "Did they look dangerous?" Sarah asks. "They...they just looked normal. But I don't know if they saw me. I hope not." "Okay, okay. Just--lock the door. Here, move, I'll keep them out," Danny offers, and he replaces Amelia by using his body as a barricade for the door. The shouts get louder and they get increasingly more anxious, until the commotion is right outside. They flinch at the sound of gunshots; but their panic only gets worse when someone pounds on the door. "I know you're in there!" a man yells. "Open up! Please!" Sarah shakes her head at Danny, and he nods back. They keep silent, but the pounding persists. After a few seconds, they hear a quick instance of muttering. A gun suddenly goes off, and the lock on the door shatters. Someone rams their body against the door and Danny, completely umprepared, falls forward onto his stomach. The two people Amelia saw then barge in: a young Asian guy and a brown-haired woman. The fear in their eyes is apparent, and the woman points a gun at them, transferring her aim between Sarah and Amelia. The man slams the door shut, hoping their pursuers didn't see them enter. But he knows the chances for that are slim. "Who the hell are you?" the woman asks. "We should be asking you that!" Amelia says. "You're the ones that barged in here." "We had to," the man defends her. "Two fucks out there are chasing us." "Yeah, and if they come here, they're gonna know we're here. Thanks, asshole." The woman's aim doesn't falter a bit, still keeping the gun trained on Sarah and Amelia as Danny gets to his feet. He keeps his hands up defensively and backs up slowly. "She can put the gun down, you know," he says, nodding to the woman. "No, Naomi. Don't risk it," the man says. But before either of them can react, Amelia reaches behind her and pulls the Desert Eagle from her waistband. The barrel immediately focuses on Naomi, but she keeps her position, supremely confident. Naomi considers whether or not to shoot when a bang comes from the door. Joe's position using himself as a barricade falters for just a second; from across the room, Danny and Sarah lock eyes, with her giving him a quick nod. He jumps into action, assisting Joe in holding the door back. Naomi glances at them, a little confused, but then focuses her stare back on Amelia. "We're just looking for someone! Some kid!" a man on the other side of the door shouts, pounding his fist against the wood more forcefully. "We don't know who you want!" Naomi shouts. "Joe, don't let them in. They're fucking crazy." "I'll shoot this Goddamn door down!" says another voice. "We have to let them in," Sarah says. "What--no!" Joe protests. "If Amelia and...Naomi can trust each other for just a second and focus on those guys instead of each other," Sarah says in a harsh whisper, "then we can get rid of them. Because they're obviously the threat." Amelia actually considers this, but she cant discern Naomi's expression. "I'm for it," Amelia finally says, and Joe, Danny, and Naomi all mutter a round of "okay's." Naomi transfers positions, moving to Amelia's side; the pounding has just stopped, a sign they decide means they don't have much time. Simultaneously, Danny and Joe move from the door, and it flings open, revealing a black guy, Sam Benson, and standing directly behind him, another man, Ronin. "Holy shit..." Sam mutters, completely taken off guard by the two guns pointed at him. "Sam!" Ronin yells, but the bullets have already penetrated Sam's body. Lucky for Ronin, Sam's body seems to have taken all of the heat, and he runs as a few more shots go off, leaving his friend behind. Naomi and Amelia both lower then guns, with Naomi being the one to step forward. She watches as Ronin sprints down the street, dodging a few infected whose attention has been grabbed by the commotion. Then, she looks down at Sam, his entire torso a muddled mess of red, and fires the final shot into his brain. ____________________________________________________________________________________ "Okay, so...you're looking for someone," Ash says, walking through a deserted alleyway with PJ and the two strangers he now knows as Conner and Kim. "That's right," Conner says. "Alright so...who is this person? And why?" "I don't know his name. But he's bald, has a bunch of tattoos. Should be easy to spot." "And what about the 'why' part?" "He killed someone I really cared about. He was just a kid. Only ten years old. So I'm gonna find him and snap his neck. That a problem with you?" Conner asks. "A problem? No. Go ahead and snap his neck. Fuckin' deserves it," Ash says. This isn't the time nor the place, but memories of his little brother Ben come to mind, and the revenge he sought after his untimely death. He knows better than anyone how strong that need for vengeance can be, so he'll be the last one to protest Conner's wishes. "Wait, Ash," PJ says, "didn't we see some guy like that? White tank top, right, Conner?" Conner suddenly stops, turning and putting his hands on PJ's shoulders. "Y-yeah, white tank top. You saw him?" Conner asks, his voice overcome with urgency. "Yeah. It was a little ways back, though. There was this old building we saw him run into. He didn't see us so we left him alone." "What building? Where is it?" "Okay, okay. Let's calm down here," Kim says. "Sun's getting ready to set. Do we really want to do this now?" "Could be our only chance, Kim. And you know that." He doesn't wait for her response; no matter what she says, he's going after this guy. "We'll take you, yeah," Ash says. "But we gotta get going, 'cause she's right. Day ain't getting any longer." The sun has fallen past the horizon, and the moon has begun to rise over the sky as Ash, Kim, Conner, and PJ venture through the streets of D.C. PJ, using the bat Ash so generously allowed him to use for the trip, silently bashes in the head of a nearby biter completely unaware of his presence. Then, he deals with another blocking the doorway of the building where Grimm is supposedly holed up in. Ash opens up the door, cringing as it creaks, and allows the three others inside before he enters himself. The place reeks of dust and dead bodies, and they cover their noses to block out the stench, traversing through the dark. The building is only one story, with a counter in what looks to be a lobby and a few doors in the back. They stick together, peeking into the tiny, empty rooms, finding nothing. But then they come to the last door, suspiciously the only one to be locked. At the first turn of the knob they hear a quick gasp from inside, then some stirring. Conner immediately knows this is it, and kicks the door. It shakes, but doesn't budge much. His rage gives him a strength even he didn't know he had, and soon the door flies open after a few more kicks, a wide-eyed Grimm standing there with a crowbar. "H-hey!" he shouts. "Better back up--" Ash suddenly reaches toward PJ, snatching the bat from his hands, and swings hard at Grimm's face. He hears a sickening crack, and the thud of Grimm hitting the cold cement floor. The crowbar falls out of his hands and skids across the floor as he holds onto his jaw, writhing around in agony. "That him?" Ash asks, putting the bat on his shoulder. Before answering, Conner walks over to Grimm and glares down at him. "Yeah. That's him," he says. Ash offers him the bat, but Conner denies with a shake of his head. "No thanks." Conner bends down and lifts Grimm up by the throat, looking him in the face for a few seconds. His jaw is unaligned, and his lip bleeds profusely. He mumbles something that Conner refuses to listen to, his anger making the words jumble together in his mind. "Oh, God," Kim mutters, looking away and fully aware of what's coming next. Conner decides he's had enough with Grimm's pathetic pleading, and quicker than anyone in the room can comprehend, Conner spins him around and snaps his neck, all in one swift motion. Conner throws him to the floor and wipes his hands on his already-dirty pants, a smile of sweet success on his face. Deaths *Connor(The Unforgettable Face) *John Clain (Fear The Living) *Akira (The Unforgettable Face) *Sam Benson (The Choices I Make) *Grimm (Lost in Hell) Category:UFSW Hunger Games Category:UFSW Hunger Games Issues Category:Issues